CLEUEN
An Elegy [2]
How sweet the placid light which Evening sheds!
How Melancholy loves the soft'ning ray!
The gloomy shade the child of sorrow treads,
And the swoll'n eye invokes departing day.
Dear to the pensive heart the silent scene5
As o'er the mellow'd plains I cast my view,
Where the Nore winds his wooded banks between
[3]
And the grey ruin wears the reddning hue.
There aged Cleuen moulders into dust
To time a victim, tho' a victim slow,10
Where once the hardy chief repos'd his trust,
And frown'd defiance on his threat'ning foe.
Tho no proud architect the pile adorn'd
Or taught the graceful column to ascend,
Its haughty strength opposing battle scorn'd,15
Firm to resist, and well the prey defend.
When Britain drove her outcasts on this shore,
They rear'd those castles on the blood-stain'd field,
The pillage from the helpless natives tore,
And forc'd the trembling combatants to yield.20
Hither they came a fierce and lawless band,
And met a foe tho feebler, not more rude;
Oppression lorded o'er the groaning land,
And Discord revell'd in continual blood.
Yet was young Aldred of superior race,25
By science foster'd and the Muses lov'd;
Skill'd the rare characters of art to trace;
His genius nurtured, and his soul improv'd.
Let pity hear his melancholy doom,
Which drove him far from Albion's cherish'd shore,30
Yielded his youth to unremitting gloom,
And gave him hopeless exile to deplore.
The child of sorrow, orphan'd & forlorn,
From noble Osburn he protection sought;
His early merit Osburn lov'd to adorn,35
Nor quench'd the fires with which his soul was fraught.
Taught with his son the graceful Aldred grew,
The lov'd companion of his youthful hours,
Improving days on blissful pinions flew,
Strengthen'd their forms & gave their minds new powers.40
Together still in ev'ry search sublime,
Their studies mutual, their pursuits the same,
To rouse the chace, the rugged steep to climb,
Or wing the rapid dart with certain aim.
Tho' Aldred shone superior in each art,45
And still surpass'd in every manly grace,
No envy poison'd his friend's noble heart
The quicker genius gain'd his ready praise.
When stripling beauty wore first manhood's bloom,
For Osburn's son were Hymen's
[4] robes prepar'd,
50
His long betrothed bride at length brought home,
And princely feasts the happy hour declar'd.
But who shall paint that fair, that angel face,
That form the image of celestial joy,
Each softer beauty, each attractive grace55
Glow'd in her cheek, & sparkled in her eye.
Unhappy Aldred! wherefore dost thou gaze,
Why doth thy heart such strange enchantment feel?
Ah! shun the meteor's bright destructive blaze,
Nor let the serpent to thy bosom steal.60
Ah caution vain! the soft seducer Love
Thro' all his veins the treach'rous venom pours,
With gentle whispers Virtue would reprove
The passion which his struggling soul deplores.
Oft struck by self-reproach, by reason woo'd65
He sought his former studies to resume,
Where'er he fled, her image still pursued
Spoke in each sound, & pierc'd thro' every gloom.
Stung by the random shaft e'en thus the deer
Shoots thro' the plains, or seeks in shades to hide,70
In his vain flight still doom'd the dart to bear,
While still it rankles in his wounded side.
Thou too sweet Ida, poor unconscious fair,
Will no protecting power from ruin save?
What anguish wastes thee, & what black despair75
Prepares thine early, thine untimely grave!
Ere yet the latent guilt her soul perceiv'd,
Fierce thro her bosom flew the subtle flame,
Each tortur'd nerve the fatal fire receiv'd,
Consum'd her soul & rag'd thro all her frame.80
Her fading cheek her secret griefs confess'd,
From her dim eye the heav'nly radiance fled,
Her lovely form by silent woes oppress'd,
And the young roses wither'd all and dead.
This Aldred saw with trembling doubt and fear,85
Saw too with conscious pang his friend was lost,
O'er his dark brow saw discontent appear,
And lowering there beheld reserve's cold frost.
Unable to endure the cruel sight,
Resolv'd to go, yet dreading to depart,90
His long lov'd friend resisted not his flight,
Which yet was destin'd to no certain part.
Unhappy Youth! ah wherefore didst thou stay,
Doom'd the extreme of misery to know,
Thy tortur'd heart shall bleed for this delay95
And thine eye see the fates resistless blow.
The tender object of thy guilty sighs
Conflicting passions to the grave have driv'n,
The fated victim sinks before thine eyes,
And 'scapes that anguish which thy flight had giv'n.100
In vain the healing powers of art are tried,
No skill of medicine can her wound assuage,
The wasting fires all human art deride,
And the fair mourner touches life's last stage.
Beside her dying couch, in stupid woe,105
Her wretched husband, and her lover stood,
From their fix'd eyes no softer sorrows flow,
Tho' sad attendants pour the pitying flood.
Yes Aldred saw for ever clos'd that eye
Whose heav'nly speaking emanations charm'd,110
Heard on her lips faint quiv'ring the last sigh,
And felt her hand by life no longer warm'd.
Then madly rushing to the forests gloom,
That house of mourning he for ever left,
Curs'd his existence, & invok'd the tomb,115
Of every sense but anguish quite bereft.
There in dark shades his furious grief to hide,
He shunn'd each eye 'mid rocks & woods conceal'd,
'Till nature sunk bid passions rage subside,
And his exhausted soul to sorrow yield.120
With aching tenderness he view'd around
The long laid scenes he shall for ever mourn,
While Melancholy spoke in every sound
"No peace shall ever to thy breast return."
That spot endear'd by many a tender tie125
He now resolv'd for ever to forego,
Yet the vast world to his despondent eye
No prospect offerd which might sooth his woe.
Urg'd by despair, thus wretched and forlorn,
He join'd the daring and adventurous crew,130
With them from Albion's friendly coast was born,
And plough'd the waves Hibernia to subdue.
There in the rudest solitude immur'd,
Leagu'd with those wretches whom foul crimes had stain'd,
Harden'd by ills, to sufferings long inur'd,135
A tender, manly soul he yet retain'd.
The voice of the oppress'd oft reach'd his ear,
The helpless oft from pillage he preserv'd,
His aw'd companions, tho' unus'd to fear,
Admiring felt their savage grasp unnerv'd.140
But when opposing chiefs in battle fought
Rous'd from his gloom he rush'd into the field,
The hottest combat desperately sought,
Which still refus'd the wish'd for doom to yield.
In vain implor'd still death appear'd to fly,145
Despis'd applause from hence he only gaind,
The chiefs more cautious view'd with wondring eye
The mighty terrors of his fearless hand.
Oft when black storms contending rag'd abroad
And night assembled the far scatter'd band,150
On the dark battlements the youth unaw'd
Was wont the tempests fury to withstand.
The mountain torrents roaring mid these woods
Spoke more accordant than the gentler stream,
And the swell'd Nore's now loudly dashing floods155
To his wild sorrows sympathetic seem.
While the full bowl his rude companions fir'd,
Loathing the tumults of the boistrous scene,
Far from the roar of festive mirth retir'd,
He ask'd no calmer sky to smile serene.160
There would he utter oft his hopeless grief
But sigh'd to no kind sympathising ear
No pitying eye his anguish gave relief
No soothing friends soft influence to cheer.
He thought of Albion's lov'd regretted shore,165
Dear objects ne'er to be review'd again,
And to the heedless winds that round him roar
Forlorn deserted thus would he complain.
"Oh! sad associate of a savage horde,
Thou wretched victim of devouring grief!170
Why is thy death delay'd so oft implor'd,
Why is despair denied its last relief?
Cut off from every hope by one sad stroke
No interest ties thee to this dreary world,
The chain of sweet society it broke175
And I accurs'd to savage wilds am hurl'd.
Is this then all the fruit of early joys
The dreams of hope, and rosy pleasure's charm?
Return ye hours ere love allur'd my eyes
And fill'd my soul with anguish and alarm.180
Once more the sweets of friendship let me know
And rise with innocence to hail the morn,
Feel with my friend blithe vigour's healthful glow
And cheerly echo to the sportive horn.
Come dearest Youth restore the social scene185
The liberal charm of unsuspected truth,
The careless heart, the open brow serene,
The warmth of confidence, the smile of youth.
Dear lovely partners of my happiest hours,
With you each pleasure & each joy is fled,190
O'er my sad bosom every sorrow lowers
And every hope of future bliss is dead.
How could I quit that soft delightful scene
Which once with Ida I had wander'd o'er,
Those sacred woods, those meadows ever green195
That silver river, and that peaceful shore!
Those gardens painted by sweet Nature's skill
Those meads adorned with her richest powers,
The wood-crowned summit of that gentle hill,
The mingled fragrance of those rosy bowers.200
At least delighted memory bring near,
Unto my cheated heart with strongest power,
Each look of love, each word, each action dear,
Each fond memorial, and each happy hour.
Still let me fancy that each peaceful night205
I lay me down in sweetest hope to view,
Her form returning with the morning light
And hear those accents soft, persuasive, true.
Still let me think mine opening eyes shall see
Upon the dewy lawn glad mornings beams,210
Marking the shadow of each well-known tree
Gracing with lustre the sweet rivers streams.
Still let me think that I with her shall rove
O'er the soft verdure of the sloping mead,
Or rest delighted in the upland grove215
And all the treasures of her bosom read.
Let thrilling rapture all my soul entrance
By one soft touch of Ida's yielding hand,
As when, united in the festive dance,
We once were mingled with the happy band.220
Once more let Ida tune the melting lute,
Let solemn strains inspire my ravish'd breast,
Thro' all my kindling nerves let rapture shoot
Or softer accents lull to tender rest.
Oh no! let me be banish'd & undone,225
Let no sweet hope my wretched days beguile,
O'er my sad life let darkning sorrow frown
And sportive nature wear from me no smile.
But Oh! at least the spotless Ida spare,
Let her be blest, while I condemn'd may rove,230
With her the light of Heav'n but let me share,
And view the sun which shines on all I love.
Ah no! in the cold senseless grave she lies,
Wild are my wishes, and my prayers are vain,
Silent her tongue, and clos'd her beaming eyes,235
And I survive, to suffer and complain.
Oft in the woods methinks her voice I hear,
It speaks of happiness for ever gone,
Of blasted hope, of moments still how dear!
Of friendship wither'd, and of pleasure flown.240
Hark even now - the soft melodious charm
Steals thro' the hush'd & dusky vault of night.
With power ev'n my mute anguish to disarm
And sooth despair itself with strange delight.
Seraph once more those coral doors unclose!245
Let Heav'n proceed from those celestial gates,
Already sure resistless rapture flows,
And on thy breath ethereal odour waits.
Oh! let me dwell for ever on that sound,
Still let me hang delighted on that voice,250
There fix'd I rest tho' all the world around
Should strive to tear me from my partial choice.
Delirious fool it is not Ida speaks!
Loud from the mountains pour the threatning floods,
O'er these drear walls the furious tempest breaks255
And the storm rages thro' th'affrighted woods.
No tongue pronounces my lov'd Ida's name,
My longing ears in vain the sound desire,
My constant thoughts this poor indulgence claim,
While falt'ring accents on my lips expire.260
Vainly I court submission, gentlest power,
The wretch's best associate, tenderest friend,
Wisdom and she have left me in this hour,
And every hope of comfort now must end:
For what can future hope to me disclose,265
To me abandon'd, lost, and desolate,
Will time return in pity to my woes,
On me to bid reverted Nature wait?
And thou Oh tomb! where all my hopes are laid
Wilt thou my silent treasure e'er restore?270
Give back to earth the fair embodied shade
And bid the clay cold dust revive once more?
Then shall my beating heart this pang resign
My charmed eyes shall welcome light again!
Ah wretch this never, never must be thine,275
Heaven smiles on all but smiles on thee in vain!
So stands the barren cliff expos'd, alone,
Nor feels the genial, vegetative sway,
On its cold brow no balmy sweets are known,
Nor kindly influence of the vernal ray.280
Beneath, the circling meadows cultur'd glow,
With yellow harvests, and with forests green,
The voice of festive mirth resounds below,
And smiling industry and joy are seen.
Oft in the transient beam of opening Heav'n285
The vallies brighten, and rejoicing sing,
While clouds and darkness to that step are driv'n
Where snows eternal mock the powerless Spring.
Thus am I doom'd the storm of fate to bear,
To woo the lightning, and the tempests rage,290
Condemn'd to Solitude perpetual, drear,
And grief which time itself can ne'er assuage.
Oh Albion! Oh my country! never more
Must those sad eyes review thy cherish'd land!
Hail with exulting heart thy distant shore,295
Or gaze impatient at thy whiten'd strand.
Might I but once behold the scenes of youth,
Ere Death the wretched exile's eyes shall close,
Remembrance sweet methinks awhile might sooth,
And lull my sorrows to a short repose.300
Vain Murmurer peace! for what can memory give,
What but must sting thee with redoubled smart?
In dark Oblivion let me silent love,
And drown the thoughts which agonize my heart!
FIRST LOVE
From "Il primo Amore" Metastasio Canz: 15. [45]
Ah it is true! in vain we strive
To quench this first-felt amorous fire,
While life exists 'tis still alive,
And never, never can expire.
Concealed, oppressed, the secret flame,5
Smothered by ashes seemed to die,
A gentle breeze from Zephyr came,
Sudden it rose, and blazed on high.
So when I found my tranquil breast
Free from the anxious pains of love,10
My silent passions hushed to rest,
I thought my heart was free to rove.
Resolved another view to take,
I bad the cruel fair adieu,
That instant saw the fire awake15
With all its former powers anew.
A single glance decided my fate,
Again the lovely tyrant reigns,
My bosom feels unusual weight,
And frequent sighs confess its pains.20
Amazed I felt my fears revive
Each other wish at once resigned,
Nor other hopes, nor joys alive
And in her eyes my fate designed.
Their powerful sway I own once more,25
With anxious wishes pine again,
Again my hopeless love deplore
And gaze in silent, tender pain.
In vain to seek relief I fly,
To secret shades, or crowds, or noise,30
Her form still swims before my eye,
My heart still hears alone her voice.
Ah! what avails corporeal flight?
Some object, whereso'er I turn,
Brings her loved image to my sight,35
And busy memory bids me mourn.
Here I recal the time when first
The gentle spring of love I found,
In hopes soft arms then sweetly nursed
By fatal chains unconscious bound.40
When all enraptured at the sight
I watched each movement of her eye,
And in that mirror clear and bright,
Saw and adored my destiny.
This place was witness of the vow45
My timid heart in secret made,
And painfully reminds me now
With what delight those vows were paid.
There I remember how confused
In vain to tell my love I tried,50
My timid tongue the task refused,
The amorous sounds within me died.
Here I reflect on what I felt,
My love displeased, reserved the while,
And there in tenderness I melt55
In memory of a gracious smile.
That smile could ever fill my soul
With jealousy, or hope, or joy:
Its power my heart could still control
And the dark glooms of doubt destroy.60
Here I remember with a sigh
The transports of my throbbing breast,
When first, young love had timidly
Its trembling, raptured hopes confest.
Here I again my sorrows mourn65
Again my doubts and terrors bear,
While cruel Memory bids return
The hours of sad suspence & care.
While round me lovely nymphs appear,
And amorous youths their graces view,70
I praise their forms, their beauties rare,
The lilly and the rose's hue.
But while I speak of Celia's eyes,
Of Daphne's shape, or Chloe's face,
"Thy love," my whispering heart replies,75
"Has matchless beauty, matchless grace."
Thus every object food becomes
For the devouring flame I prove,
And fuel adds to what consumes
Each wish, each thought, each hope but Love.80
Each charm reminds me but of thee
Dear Idol of my constant heart!
And never shall that heart be free
From its sweet fetters to depart.
My soul no laws but thine receives85
Nor do I of my fate complain,
Sweet is his lot who only lives
A subject in thy gentle reign.
Bryan Byrne
founded on truth [66]
Bright shines the morn o'er Carickmure,
And silvers every mountain stream,
The autumnal woods on Glenmalure
Look lovely in the slanting beam.
And hark! the cry, the cry of joy!5
The hounds spring o'er yon heathy brow;
"'Tis but the hunter's horn my boy,"
"No death-tongu'd bugle scares us now."
In vain the widow'd mother smil'd,
And clasp'd her darling to her breast,10
Horror and rage o'er all the child
A manly beauty strange imprest.
Fierce roll'd his eye of heav'n's own hue,
And the quick blood strong passions told,
As fresh the breeze of morning blew,15
From his clear brow the curls of gold.
'Tis not alone the horn so shrill,
Yon martial plume that waves on high,
Bids every infant nerve to thrill
With more than infant agony.20
Yet gentle was the soldier's heart,
Whom 'mid the gallant troop he spied,
Who let the gallant troop depart,
And check'd his eager courser's pride.
For he had caught the glance of fire,25
And seen the mother's sadden'd smile,
And mingled feelings strong inspire
The wish on each to dwell a while.
"What fears the child?" he wond'ring cried,
With courteous air as near he drew,30
"Soldier away! my father died"
"Murder'd by soldiers, men like you!"
Even while the angry cherub
[67] speaks,
He struggles from the stranger's grasp,
Kissing the tears that bath'd her cheeks,35
His little arms his mother clasp.
"And who are these?" the youth exclaim'd,
With pity touch'd, with wonder fill'd,
Ere yet his cooler reason blam'd
The early hatred deep instill'd.40
But pointing to the startled pair,
While swift down Glenmalure they fled,
He mark'd the mother's maniac air,
As seiz'd with wild and sudden dread.
"'Tis Ellen Byrne," an old man cried,45
"Poor Ellen! and her orphan boy!"
Then turn'd his silver'd brow aside,
To shun the youth's inquiring eye.
"But is there none to guard the child"
"Save that lone phrenzied widow's hand,"50
"These rocky heights, those steep woods wild,"
"Sure some more watchful eye demand."
"Ah, well he knows each rock each wood,"
"The mountain goat not more secure,"
"And he was born to hardships rude,"55
"The orphan Byrne of Carickmure."
"That boy had seen his father's blood,"
"Had heard his murder'd father's groan,"
"And never more in playful mood"
"With smiles his infant beauty shone."60
Sad was the pitying stranger's eye,
"Too well," said he, "I guess the truth,"
"His father sure was doom'd to die,"
"Some poor deluded rebel youth."
"No rebel he," with eye inflam'd,65
And cheek that glow'd with transient fire,
Rous'd to a sudden warmth exclaim'd
The hapless Ellen's aged sire.
"He did not fall in Tarah's fight,"
"No blood of his the Currah stains,"70
"Where many a ghost, that moans by night,"
"Of foully broken faith complains."
"He triumph'd not that fatal day"
"When every loyal cheek look'd pale,"
"But heard like us with sad dismay"75
"Of fallen chiefs in Clough's dark vale."
[68]
"For wedded to our Ellen's love,"
"One house was ours, one hope, one soul;"
"Tho' fierce malignant parties strove,"
"No party rage could love controul."80
"Tho' we were sprung from British race,"
"And his was Erin's early pride,"
"Yet, match'd in every loveliest grace,"
"No priest could ere their hearts divide."
"What tho' no Yeoman's arms he bore,"85
"'Twas party hate that hope forbad,"
"What tho' no martial dress he wore,"
"That dress no braver bosom clad."
"And had our gallant Bryan Byrne"
"Been welcom'd to their loyal band,"90
"Home might I still in joy return"
"The proudest father in the land."
"For ah! when Bryan Byrne was slain,"
"With him my brave, my beauteous son"
"His precious life-blood shed in vain,"95
"The savage work of death was done."
He ceas'd, for now, by memory stung,
His heart's deep wounds all freshly bled,
While with a father's anguish wrung,
He bow'd to earth his aged head.100
Yet soothing to his broken heart
He felt the stranger's sympathy,
And age is ready to impart
Its page of woe to pity's eye.
Yes it seem'd sweet once more to dwell105
On social joys, and peaceful days,
And still his darling's virtues tell
And still his Ellen's beauty praise.
"And say" at length exclaim'd the youth,
"Did no one rash rebellious deed,"110
"Ere cloud thy Bryan's loyal truth,"
"And justice doom thy boy to bleed?"
No, never rash rebellious deed
Was his, nor rash rebellious word,
That day of slaughter saw him bleed115
Where blushing justice dropt the sword.
In fury's hand it madly rag'd,
As urg'd by fierce revenge she flew,
With unarmed innocence she wag'd
Such war as justice never knew.120
"'Twas ours," the sorrowing father cried,
"'Twas ours to mourn the crimes of all"
"Each night some loyal brother died,"
"Each morn beheld some victim fall."
"Oh! 'twas a sad and fearful day,"125
"That saw my gallant boys laid low,"
"The voice of anguish and dismay"
"Proclaim'd full many a widow's woe."
"But doubly o'er our fated house"
"Th'accursed hand of murder fell," 130
"And, ere our Ellen wept her spouse,"
"She had a dreadful tale to tell"
"For early on that guilty morn,"
"The voice of horror reach'd our ears,"
"That from their thoughtless slumber torn,"135
"Before a helpless sister's tears,"
"Beneath their very mother's sight,"
"Three youthful brothers butcher'd lie,"
"Three loyal yeomen brave in fight,"
"Butcher'd by savage treachery."140
"They were my nephews; boys I lov'd,"
"My own brave boy alone more dear;"
"Their rashness oft my heart reprov'd"
"And mark'd their daring zeal with fear."
"They were my widow'd sister's joy,"145
"Her hope in age, and dark distress,"
"And Ellen lov'd each gallant boy,"
"Even with a sister's tenderness."
"It was from Ellen's lips I heard"
"The tidings sadly, surely true,"150
"To me ere yet the dawn appear'd,"
"All pale with fear & grief she flew."
"Rous'd by her call, with her I sought"
"The sad abode of misery,"
"But to the wretched mother brought"155
"No comfort but our sympathy."
"On the cold earth, proud sorrow's throne,"
"In silent majesty of woe,"
"She sat, & felt herself alone,"
"Tho' loud th'encreasing tumult grew."160
"In throngs th'assembled country came,
"And every hand was arm'd with death,
Revenge, revenge they all exclaim,
Spare no suspected traitor's breath.
No! let not one escape, who owns165
The faith of Rome, of treachery,
This loyal blood for vengeance groans,
And signal vengeance let there be.
What, shall we feel the coward blow,
And tamely wait a late defence,170
No, let us strike the secret foe,
Even thro' the breast of innocence!
"Poor Ellen trembled as they rav'd,"
"Her pallid cheek forgot its tears,"
"While, from the hand of fury sav'd"175
"Her infant darling scarce appears."
"I saw her earnest searching eye,"
"In that dark moment of alarm,"
"Ask, in impatient agony,"
"A brother's dear, protecting arm."180
"Woe! bitter woe! to me, and mine,"
"Too well his brave, his feeling heart"
"Already could her fears divine,"
"And more than bear a brother's part."
"When the first savage blast he knew"185
"Would bid each deadly bugle roar,"
"Back to our home of peace he flew,"
"Ah home of peace and love no more!"
"Oh would to God that I had died"
"Beneath my wretched sisters roof!"190
"Thus Heav'n in mercy had denied"
"To my worst fears their utmost proof."
"So had these eyes been spar'd a sight"
"Which wrings my soul with anguish still."
"Nor known how much of life, ere night,"195
"The blood-hounds of revenge could spill."
"Sinking at once with fear & age"
"Her father's steps my child upheld,"
"The mangled victims of their rage"
"Each moment shuddring we beheld."200
"Down yon steep side of Carickmure;"
"Our rugged path we homeward wound;"
"And saw, at least, that home secure,"
"'Mid many a smoky ruin round."
"Low in the glen our cottage lies,"205
"Behind yon dusky copse of oak,"
"On its white walls we fix'd our eyes."
"But not one word poor Ellen spoke."
"We came: the clamour scarce was o'er,"
"The fiends scarce left their work of death,"210
"But never spoke our Bryan more,"
"Nor Ellen caught his latest breath."
"Still to the corpse by horror join'd,"
"The shrinking infant closely clung,"
"And fast his little arms entwin'd"215
"As round the bleeding neck he hung."
"Oh! sight of horror, sight of woe!"
"The dead & dying both were there,"
"One dreadful moment serv'd to shew"
"For us was nothing but despair."220
"Oh God! even now methinks I see"
"My dying boy as there he stood,"
"And sought with fond anxiety,"
"To hide his gushing wounds of blood."
"Dear Ellen!" faintly he exclaim'd,225
"I could not save our Bryan's life"
"Thy brother's love will not be blam'd"
"Unequal, cruel was the strife."
"Ere life yet left his noble breast,"
"Gasping again he tried to speak," 230
"And twice my hand he feebly prest,"
"And feebly kiss'd poor Ellen's cheek."
"No word she spoke, no tear she shed,"
"Ere at my feet convuls'd she fell;"
"Still lay my children, cold and dead,"235
"And I yet live the tale to tell."
"She too awoke to wild despair,"
"With frenzied eye each corpse to see,"
"To rave, to smile with frantic air,"
"But never more to smile for me."240
"But hold! from yonder grassy slope,"
"Our orphan darling calls me hence;"
"Sweet child! last relick of our hope"
"Of love, & injur'd innocence."
Behind that birch-tree see him stand,"245
"Waving its light boughs gracefully:"
"While, threat'ning with his baby hand,"
He chides me that I talk with thee."
"Soldier farewel! to thee should power"
"Commit the fate of life's obscure,"250
"Remember still in fury's hour"
"The murder'd youths of Glenmalure"
"And chief, if civil broils return,"
"Tho' vengeance urge to waste, destroy,"
"Ah! pause: think then on Bryan Byrne!"255
"Poor Ellen and her orphan boy!"
MORVEN and MIRUNA
from
OSSIAN [79]
Dark is the night, tempestuous howls the blast,
And down the mountain roars the torrent fast;
Whence are those sounds of sweet, but saddest woe?
Whence doth that melody of sorrow flow?
On yon dark hill of storm, all lonely laid,5
Behold Miruna the white-bosom'd maid!
Fair as the showery bow which mildly shone
In the soft splendour of the setting Sun,
Or as the Moon, when calm she rears her head,
A silver radiance o'er the lake to shed,10
Lovely as morn, and gentle as the breeze
That fans the humid Spring from perfum'd trees;
See how her shadowy tresses unconfin'd
In wild luxuriance float upon the wind,
Now veil her neck, now sport upon her face,15
And half conceal the beauties they should grace,
But terror heaves beneath that breast of snow,
And down her vermeil cheek soft sorrows flow,
For hither, by her Morven urg'd to come,
Alone & timid she had left her home,20
For him she waits in terror & dismay,
Confus'd & wondering at his long delay,
For ere the Western hills the sun conceal'd
Or yon tall cliffs the rising moon reveal'd,
She vow'd to meet him, and escape the ire25
Of her stern brother, & relentless sire;
But sad the evening frown'd involved in clouds,
And night descending all in horror shrouds.
She calls in trembling accents on her love
Who lur'd her thus a fugitive to rove,30
The trembling accents all her fears confess,
And sadder sighs her agony express.
"Rise lovely Cynthia! mistress of the night!
Let not these envious clouds obscure thy light,
Oh! with thy friendly lustre guide my feet,35
Where Morven roams his wandering love to meet.
Let thy soft beams his graceful form illume,
And chase the horrors of this night of gloom.
Forlorn, unheard, beneath the beating rain,
I call my lingering love alas! in vain.40
Drear howls the wind, the mountain torrents roar,
But Morven's promis'd voice I hear no more,
Hush, hush ye winds! ye roaring torrents cease,
And lull awhile your stormy rage to peace.
Let but my feeble voice be heard around,45
My Lover's heart shall hail from far the sound!
And lo! in pity at my woe from high,
The gracious moon looks forth & calms the sky,
The whiten'd rocks reflect her silver light,
The mountain streams, & flooded vales look bright:50
From Ardvon's windy steep I gaze around,
And breathless listen to each mingled sound,
But Ah! no form of love dispels my fear,
No panting dogs proclaim my Morven near!
I see the destin'd spot, the mossy seat,55
The stream that swell'd rolls foaming at my feet,
The pointed rock, the storm-bent oak is here,
Chief of the hill! my promis'd lord appear!
But who are those, who in the distant vale
Lie on the heath? my frighted spirits fail;60
Bear me my trembling feet! yet, yet sustain
This sinking body to yon dreadful plain!
Is this my brother! this my Morven! say
Dear images of terror & dismay?
Ah speak my friend! revive my fleeting breath,65
Call back my soul from horror & from death!
Oh no! they speak no more! both, both are dead!
Lo! their blood-stain'd swords, deep gash'd & red;
Oh horror, horror! terrible your rage,
Against each other why did you engage?70
Dear cruel youths! ah whither can I fly?
The wretched cause of all these horrors I.
Sweet were your lives; untimely must they end?
Silent & cold, my brother, & my friend!
Dear were you both to this now widow'd heart,75
Ah why should ancient feuds such spirits part?
Long had our race been foes ere thou, brave youth,
Had plighted with my secret soul thy truth.
Yet, yet upon yon misty brow appear,
Shades of the dead! Miruna feels no fear!80
In mercy speak, Oh tell my soul distrest
Where do your reconciled spirits rest?
On what dark coast can I my brother find.
Where can I now be to my Morven join'd?
Alas! I see no lightly hovering form,85
No voice like theirs low murmurs thro' the storm.
Rear, rear the tomb, ye virgins of the grove,
Lay me between my brother, & my love!
Here raise it high for these your country's pride,
And lay Miruna by her heroes side.90
Close it not yet! this heart still beats with life,
But cannot long support this painful strife.
I come my Morven! murder'd spouse I come!
Receive Miruna at thy new found home!"
She spoke, & sunk upon the breathless clay,95
Then in mute sorrow sigh'd her soul away,
Her tender soul resigned the faithful breath,
There rest the youths, & hapless maid in death.
On the sad spot they rear the silent tomb,
And still each gentle heart deplores their doom;100
High on yon rock beside the mossy stream
Her form oft rises 'mid the moon's pale beam,
There oft she sings in softly plaintive sounds,
There mourns her Morven's and her brother's wounds.
The shepherd hears her from the pasture plains,105
And fearless listens to the heav'nly strains,
Soft as the sounds which swell the evening gale,
When Autumn whispers in the rustling vale;
The wearied huntsman views her from afar,
Deck'd with mild lustre like the evening star,110
But when the blasts arise, or morn draws near,
Or trembling mortal owns a coward fear,
As into air dissolves the melting lay,
And the light vision vanishes away --
WINTER
Imitated from the DAPHNIS of GESSNER [80]
In vain, stern Winter, would thy gloomy reign
Banish each beauty from our rural plain,
Spite of thy ravages still Nature charms,
And here sheds beauty which thy rage disarms;
Delighted I behold the brilliant scene,5
Where thro' the snow peeps forth the tender green,
And tho' the enfeebled sun hath lost his power,
And scarce sheds heat in his meridian hour,
Yet bright he shines in the blue vault serene,
While not a cloud thro' Heav'ns wide arch is seen;10
How clear he gilds the summit of yon hills!
How bright he sparkles in yon crystal rills!
Whose rapid course defies the icy chains
With which the languid waters frost detains;
On the brown, leafless hedge a dazzling line15
Of trembling icicles pellucid shine,
The brittle diamonds glitter on the thorn,
The painted dew-drops of the early morn,
And dancing sparkle in the northern gales,
Which blast our hills, & chill our shelter'd vales;20
The meads indeed afford no pasture now,
The sheep no longer graze the mountain's brow,
Securely feeding in their huts they brave
The fields of famine, & the stagnant wave.
No footsteps now are seen of passing flocks,25
No lowing herds; save that the docile ox
Slowly & sad the woodman's burden bears
The fuel which his cold, long evening cheers.
What tho' the frosts have robb'd our fields of flowers,
And stripp'd of verdure all our rosy bowers,30
Tho' now no longer from the smiling bough
I cull fresh garlands for Serena's brow,
Where forc'd to view the violets charms disclose,
And fairest lillies shame the blushing rose,
Yet wreaths of laurel I may still combine,35
And round her head the faithful myrtle twine;
Tho' the rude breath of bitter winds assail,
And hush to peace the songsters of our vale;
Tho' now no more the sprightly lark we hear
And Philomel no longer charms our ear,40
Yet the tame sparrow pecks from door to door,
And the sweet Redbreast shares our frugal store:
Lo! to my love the little thief I'll bring
For her his sweetest, tenderest notes he'll sing
Fed on her hand his songs shall thank her care45
Too blest her fondness and her smiles to share!
Tho' hills & cottages are crown'd with snow,
Which spreads & covers all the pains below,
Yet still some shrubs of purest, vivid green,
Vary the dazzling whiteness of the scene:50
And there my fair one's home I can descry,
And still on it repose my wandering eye;
'Mid the brown woods its smoky columns rise,
'Till the blue vapour join the clearer skies;
As borne aloft it mounts upon the breeze55
And bathes the leafless bosom of the trees;
There seated by the blazing turf, even now,
Perhaps, with fixed eyes, & pensive brow,
She from her casement views the wintry plain,
And thinks on absence, & her lover's pain,60
With soften'd heart his constant flame approves,
And sweetly ponders on our early loves;
Perhaps, like me, for Spring's return she longs,
Which calls forth verdure, flowers, & cheerful songs:
Oh! when by love, & mirth, & music led,65
In the gay dance shall we together tread,
Where mingled with the lightly, careless band,
In sweet transport I can press her hand,
When shall our voice united charm each hill,
And with sweet echoes every valley fill?70
Belov'd, Serena! fairest of that train,
Who welcome May with dances on the plain,
Thy beauty might my ravish'd senses bind,
But 'twas the purer graces of thy mind,
That bound in firmest chains my willing soul75
For ever subject to thy soft control;
Can I forget, when with a tender tear,
She heard the tale of the young Shepherd's fear?
Then with soft smiles, & sympathising voice,
She made the young Alexis heart rejoice.80
Two lambs from all her flock she bid him choose,
Nor the free gift with bashful shame refuse,
To dry his tears, his father's loss repair,
And chase the trembling boy's distress & care.
The lamb he lost she bid him cease to mourn,85
And fearless to his sterner home return.
Oh Winter! what avails thine harsh control?
Thy frosts can never chain my ardent soul,
My songs shall still resound Serena's praise,
For her in warmest notes my voice I'll raise,90
My flute shall breathe, & my obedient lyre,
Shall kindling glow with all its master's fire,
And Oh Serena! may my voice appear
As sweetly grateful to thy partial ear
As the remembrance of the poor & griev'd,95
Whose woes by thee were soften'd & reliev'd!
Notes
[1] EDITOR'S NOTE: H.T. is Henry Tighe, Tighe’s husband. BACK
[2] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Cleuen An Elegy" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is not dated in Verses. I have not been
able to locate a specific source for the tale Tighe tells in her elegy for Cleuen, alternately spelled Cluen or Clune or Cloone (also Clowen), a
chieftain evidently buried in one of the distinctive rock mounds alongside the river Nore at Clonamery (where the ruins of Clune Castle and the
Clune Church reside). BACK
[3] EDITOR'S NOTE: The Nore river flows past Kilkenny and Inistiogue (the location of
Woodstock, William Tighe's estate). BACK
[4] EDITOR'S NOTE: Hymen is the Greek god of marriage. BACK
[5] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Written in an Almanack 1805" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals). BACK
[6] EDITOR'S NOTE: "The World" is printed in Mary where it is dated 1803. BACK
[7] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Imitation from Jeremiah Chap XXXI. Ver 15. Nov:r 1800" is printed in Psyche, with Other Poems (undated). Tighe's verse covers Jeremiah 31.15-17, which promises the restoration of Rachel's
children, a prophecy that would have resonated powerfully in November 1800 for Ireland: “Thus saith the Lord; A voice was heard in Ramah,
lamentation, and bitter weeping; Rahel weeping for her children refused to be comforted for her children, because they were not. Thus saith the
Lord; Refrain thy voice from weeping, and thine eyes from tears: for thy work shall be rewarded, saith the Lord; and they shall come again from the
land of the enemy. And there is hope in thine end, saith the Lord, that thy children shall come again to their own border” (KJV). BACK
[8] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Psalm CXXX. Imitated. Jan.y 1805"is printed in Mary with
lines 13-16 omitted, lines that are not expressed in Psalm 130: “1. Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord. 2. Lord, hear my voice: let
thine ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications. 3. If thou, Lord, shouldest mark iniquities, O Lord, who shall stand? 4. But there is
forgiveness with thee, that thou mayest be feared. 5. I wait for the Lord, my soul doth wait, and in his word do I hope. 6. My soul waiteth for the
Lord more than they that watch for the morning: I say, more than they that watch for the morning. 7. Let Israel hope in the Lord: for with the Lord
there is mercy, and with him is plenteous redemption. 8. And he shall redeem Israel from all his iniquities”(KJV). BACK
[9] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Verses Written when a detachment of Yeomen were sent against the rebel army" poem does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals); the
language inscribed on the shield in the illustration dates the poem and/or the event it describes to "Dublin July 13, 1798" and offers the Latin
motto "I Secondo Omine": may all good go with you (from Horace's Odes 3.11.50-51). During the summer of 1798 Henry Tighe
fought with the loyalist yeomen cavalry against the rebels in the Wicklow mountains. Tighe refers to herself via her coterie name "Linda" once
again. BACK
[10] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Sensibility" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary
(or Collected Poems and Journals) and is not dated in Verses. BACK
[11] EDITOR'S NOTE: "See while the Juggler Pleasure smiles" is printed in Mary as "Pleasure, 1803." This is the
only page in the manuscript that offers two illustrations. BACK
[12] EDITOR'S NOTE: "If Slander sting thy swelling heart" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is not dated in Verses; although
it follows the meter and rhyme scheme of "See while the Juggler Pleasure smiles," it appears to be a separate poem. The E.I. Fox transcription of
this poem in the Belfast Public Library titles it "La Guêpe" ("The Wasp") and prints it on a separate page before (rather than after) "See while
the Juggler Pleasure smiles," there titled Stanza's." BACK
[13] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Written On the acquittal of Hardy &c -- Dec:r 1794" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals); the
sonnet celebrates Thomas Erskine's successful defense of Thomas Hardy, John Thelwall, and John Horne Tooke against the charge of high treason for
attempting to overthrow the monarchical system. Coleridge's sonnet "To Erskine" was published in the December 1794 Morning
Post:
When British Freedom for a happier land
Spread her broad wings, that flutter'd with affright,
ERSKINE! thy voice
she heard, and paus'd her flight
Sublime of hope! For dreadless thou didst stand
(Thy censer glowing with the hallow'd
flame)5
An hireless Priest before th' insulted shrine,
And at her altar pourd'st the stream divine
Of unmatch'd eloquence.
There thy name
Her sons shall venerate, and cheer thy breast
With blessings heaven-ward breath'd. And when the doom10
Of Nature
bids thee die, beyond the tomb
Thy light shall shine: as sunk beneath the West
Tho' the great Summer Sun eludes our
gaze,
Still burns wide Heaven with his distended blaze.
[14] EDITOR'S NOTE: "The Dove Anacreon Ode 15" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. Most verse
translations of Anacreon's ode on the dove identify it as Ode IX (per Joshua Barnes's 1705 edition) rather than Ode XV (the Vatican MS order that
Thomas Moore follows in his 1801 Odes of Anacreon); it seems likely that Tighe's poem is a response to other verse
translations (there is no record of Tighe studying Greek as she did Latin, French, Italian and German). Here she refigures Anacreon's beloved
Bathylus as the lover of the Greek lyric poet Sappho. BACK
[15] EDITOR'S NOTE: This line ends with a comma and a question mark in the
manuscript. BACK
[16] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Madagascar eclogue Imitated from the Chev. du Parney" does not appear in Psyche, with Other
Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses; it presents a verse translation of Évariste de Parny's "Chanson VI" in his Chansons Madécasses
(1787). Tighe changes Parny's "Ampanani" to "Ampoina" and skips the first two lines below (“Young prisoner, what is thy name?” My name is Vaïna.”),
to begin with Ampanani’s compliment “Vaïna, you are as beautiful as the first ray of daylight”:
AMPANANI
Jeune prisonnière, quel est ton
nom?
VAINA
Je m'appelle Vaïna.
AMPANANI5
Vaïna, tu es belle comme le premier rayon du jour. Mais pourquoi tes longues
paupières laissent-elles échapper des larmes?
VAINA
O roi! J'avais un amant.
AMPANANI
Où
est-il?10
VAINA
Peut-être a-t-il péri dans les combats, peut-être a-t-il dû son salut à la fuite.
AMPANANI
Laisse-le fuir
ou mourir, je serai ton amant.
VAINA15
O roi! Prends pitié des pleurs qui mouillent tes pieds!
AMPANANI
Que
veux-tu?
VAINA
Cet infortuné a baisé mes yeux, il a baisé ma bouche, il a dormi sur mon sein; il est dans mon coeur, rien ne peut
l'en arrachera . . . .20
AMPANANI
Prends ce voile et couvre tes charmes. Achève.
VAINA
Permets que j'aille le chercher
parmi les morts, ou parmi les fugitifs.
AMPANANI25
Va, belle Vaïna. Périsse le barbare qui se plait à ravir des baisers mêlés à des
larmes!
[17] EDITOR'S NOTE: "The Kiss Imitated from Voiture" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary and is undated in Verses; Henry and Lucy Moore include a copy of it in their 1811 Album (the
source text for Collected Poems and Journals). It presents a verse translation of Vincent Voiture's 52-line lyric
"Stances" (1650), which does not contain Tighe’s epigraph “Le soleil ne luit pas” (“The sun does not shine”):
Ce soir que vous ayant seulette
rencontrée,
Pour guerir mon esprit et le remettre en paix:
J'eus de vous, sans effort, belle et divine Astrée,
La premiere
faveur que j'en receus jamais.
Que d'attraits, que d'appas vous rendoient adorable! 5
Que de traits, que de feux me vinrent
enflamer!
Je ne verray jamais rien qui soit tant aimable,
Ni vous rien desormais qui puisse tant aimer.
Les charmes que
l'Amour en vos beautez recelle,
Estoient plus que jamais puissans et dangereux; 10
O Dieux! qu'en ce moment mes yeux vous virent
belle,
Et que vos yeux aussi me virent amoureux!
La rose ne luit point d'une grace pareille,
Lors que pleine d'amour elle
rit au Soleil,
Et l'Orient n'a pas, quand l'Aube se reveille, 15
La face si brillante, et le teint si vermeil.
Cet objet qui
pouvoit esmouvoir une souche,
Jettant par tant d'appas le feu dans mon esprit,
Me fit prendre un baiser sur vostre belle bouche,
Mais las! ce fut plustost le baiser qui me prit.20
Car il brusle en mes os, et va de veine en veine,
Portant le feu vengeur
qui me va consumant,
Jamais rien ne m'a fait endurer tant de peine,
Ni causé dans mon coeur tant de contentement.
Mon ame
sur ma lévre estoit lors toute entiere, 25
Pour savourer le miel qui sur la vostre estoit;
Mais en me retirant, elle resta derriere,
Tant de ce doux plaisir l'amorce l'arrestoit.
S'esgarant de ma bouche, elle entra dans la vostre,
Yvre de ce Nectar qui
charmoit ma raison, 30
Et sans doute, elle prit une porte pour l'autre,
Et ne luy souvint plus quelle estoit sa maison.
Mes
pleurs n'ont pû depuis fléchir cette infidelle,
A quitter un séjour qu'elle trouva si doux:
Et je suis en langueur sans repos, et
sans elle,35
Et sans moy-mesme aussi lors que je suis sans vous.
Elle ne peut laisser ce lieu tant desirable,
Ce beau Temple
où l'Amour est de tous adoré,
Pour entrer derechef en l'Enfer miserablé,
Où le Ciel a voulu qu'elle ait tant enduré.40
Mais
vous, de ses desirs unique et belle Reine,
Où cette ame se plaist comme en son Paradis,
Faites qu'elle retourne, et que je la
reprenne
Sur ces mesmes oeillets, où lors je la perdis.
Je confesse ma faute, au lieu de la défendre, 45
Et triste et
repentant d'avoir trop entrepris,
Le baiser que je pris, je suis prest de le rendre,
Et me rendez aussi ce que vous m'avez
pris.
Mais non, puis-que ce Dieu dont l'amorce m'enflame,
Veut bien que vous l'ayez, ne me la rendez point; 50
Mais souffrez
que mon corps se rejoigne à mon ame,
Et ne separez pas ce que Nature a joint. (lines 1-52)
Tighe's poem prompted Thomas Moore's
eight-line response "To Mrs. ----, On Her Beautiful Translation of Voiture's Kiss," published in
The Poetical Works of the
Late Thomas Little, Esq (1801):
How heav'nly was the poet's doom,
To breathe his spirit through a
kiss;
And lose within so sweet a tomb
The trembling messenger of bliss!
And, ah! his soul return'd to feel5
That it again could ravished be;
For in the kiss that thou didst steal,
His life and
soul have fled to thee!
BACK[18] EDITOR'S NOTE: Tighe quotes Romeo's line in 5.1.3 of Shakespeare's Romeo and
Juliet. BACK
[19] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Imitated from a Sonnet Written by Mad. de la Valliere" does not appear in Psyche, with Other
Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. Tighe's note to the title provides a copy of Vallière's sonnet (“Everything destroys itself, everything passes; and the most
tender heart / Cannot content itself with the same object”) and its historical context; Louise de la Vallière was the mistress of Louis XIV
(1661-1667) until she was displaced by Madame de Montespan and eventually received permission to leave the court and take holy vows: "Madme de la Valliere se plaignit tendrement au Roi de son changement, il lui repondit avec froideur qu'il etoit trop
sincere pour lui cacher sa passion pour Madme de Montespan. Madme de la
Valliere envoyà au Roi ce sonnet.
Tout se detruit, tout passe; & le coeur le plus tendre
Ne peut d'un même objet se contenter
toujours;
Le passè n'a point vu d'eternelles amours,
Et le siecles futurs n'en doivent point attendre:
La constance a des
loix qu'on ne veut point entendre,5
Des desseins d'un grand Roi rien n'arrete le cours:
Ce qui plait aujourd' hui deplait en peu de
jours.
Son inegalite ne sauroit se contraindre.
Tous ses defauts grand Roi font tort a vos vertues.
Vous m'aimiez autrefois,
& vous ne m'aimez plus,10
Ah! que mes sentimens sont differens des votres;
Amour! a qui je dois et mon mal, et mon
bien,
Que ne lui donnez vous un coeur comme le mien?
Ou que ne m'avez vous fait le mien comme les autres?
Ce sonnet fut louè
de Louis, mais il se contente d'assurer Mad: de la Valliere qu'il aurait toujours de l'estime pour elle -- St Simon." (Tighe's note, from Louis
de Rouvroy Saint-Simon's
Mémoires [1789], 3:364-65).
BACK[20] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Verses Imitated from Du Moustier" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. It
presents a loose verse translation of Charles Albert Demoustier's 28-line poem for Sappho (Lettre XLIII) in his Lettres à Émilie,
sur la mythologie, 6 vols (1786-98), where Sappho declares “I will drink the icy waves / Which should erase forever / From my heart and
my thoughts / The memory of my love”:
Je vais boire l'onde glacée
Qui doit effacer pour toujours
De mon coeur et de ma
pensée
Le souvenir de mes amours.
Enfin, je braverai les armes5
Du cruel enfant de Vénus.
Je ne verserai plus de
larmes.
Mais, hélas! je n'aimerai plus.
Je n'aimerai plus!.... Quoi! sa vue
Ne me fera plus tressaillir!10
Je l'entendrai
sans être emué
Et sans frissonner de plaisir!
Quoi! mon coeur ne pourra plus même
Se figurer qu'il me sourit,
Qu'il est
la, qu'il me dit: Je t'aime,15
Que je pleure, qu'il s'attendrit!
Je ne pourrai plus, sur la rive,
Les jours entiers l'attendre
en vain;
Le soir m'en retourner pensive,
Et me dire: Il viendra demain!20
Adieu donc, espoir, rêverie,
Illusions, dont la
douceur
M'aidait à supporter la vie
Et le veuvage de mon coeur.
Et toi, malgré les injustices25
Qu'à ce coeur tu fis
essuyer,
Perfide, de mes sacrifices,
Le plus dur, c'est de t'oublier.
BACK[21] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Verses Imitated from the Chev. du Parney Il est tems mon Eleonore!&c 1798" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals). It presents a
verse translation of Évariste de Parny's 29-line "Élégie XIII" from Élégies (1784), whose opening lines declare “It is
time, my Éléonore, / To put an end to our errors”:
Il est temps, mon Éléonore,
De mettre un terme à nos erreurs;
Il est temps
d'arrêter les pleurs
Que l'amour nous dérobe encore.
Il disparaît l'âge si doux,5
L'âge brillant de la folie!
Lorsque
tout change autour de nous,
Changeons, ô mon unique amie!
D'un bonheur qui fuit sans retour
Cessons de rappeler
l'image;10
Et des pertes du tendre Amour
Que l'Amitié nous dédommage.
Je quitte enfin ces tristes lieux
Où me ramena
l'Espérance,
Et l'Océan entre nous deux15
Va mettre un intervalle immense!
Il faut même qu'à mes adieux
Succède une
éternelle absence!
Le devoir m'en fait une loi.
Sur mon destin sois plus tranquille;20
Mon nom passera jusqu'à toi:
Quel
que soit mon nouvel asile,
Le tien parviendra jusqu'à moi.
Trop heureux si tu vis heureuse;
A cette absence
douloureuse25
Mon coeur pourra s'accoutumer.
Mais ton image va me suivre;
Et si je cessé de t'aimer,
Crois que j'aurai
cesse de vivre.
[22] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Imitation from Horace Eheu fugaces &c Lib.II. Ode XIV" does not appear in Psyche, with Other
Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. It presents a verse translation of Horace's Ode 2.14 addressed to Posthumus (“Alas, O Posthumus, Posthumus, the years glide
swiftly by,” Charles E. Bennett translation), and invokes the Atlantic versus Adriatic ocean:
Eheu fugaces, Postume, Postume,
labuntur anni
nec pietas moram
rugis et instanti senectae
adferet indomitaeque morti,
non, si
trecenis quotquot eunt dies,5
amice, places inlacrimabilem
Plutona tauris, qui ter amplum
Geryonen Tityonque tristi
compescit unda, scilicet omnibus
quicumque terrae munere uescimur10
enauiganda, siue reges
siue inopes erimus coloni.
Frustra cruento Marte
carebimus
fractisque rauci fluctibus Hadriae,
frustra per autumnos nocentem15
corporibus metuemus Austrum:
uisendus ater flumine languido
Cocytos errans et Danai genus
infame
damnatusque longi
Sisyphus Aeolides laboris.20
Linquenda tellus et domus et placens
uxor, neque harum
quas colis arborum
te praeter inuisas cupressos
ulla breuem dominum
sequetur;
absumet heres Caecuba dignior25
seruata centum clauibus et mero
tinguet pauimentum
superbo,
pontificum potiore cenis.
BACK[23] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Imitation from Horace Lib: I. Ode. IV. Solvitur acris &c" does not appear in Psyche, with
Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. It presents a verse translation of Horace's Ode 1.4 on spring addressed to Sestius (“Keen winter is breaking up at
the welcome change to spring and the Zephyr,” Charles E. Bennett translation):
Solvitur acris hiems grata vice veris et Favoni,
trahuntque
siccas machinae carinas,
ac neque iam stabulis gaudet pecus aut arator igni,
nec prata canis albicant pruinis.
Iam Cytherea
choros ducit Venus imminente luna,5
iunctaeque Nymphis Gratiae decentes
alterno terram quatiunt pede, dum gravis
Cyclopum
Vulcanus ardens visit officinas.
Nunc decet aut viridi nitidum caput impedire mytro
aut flore, terrae quem ferunt
solutae;10
nunc et in umbrosis Fauno decet immolare lucis,
seu poscat agna sive malit haedo.
Pallida Mors aequo pulsat pede
pauperum tabernas
regumque turris. O beate Sesti,
vitae summa brevis spem nos vetat incohare longam.15
Iam te premet nox
fabulaeque Manes
et domus exilis Plutonia; quo simul mearis,
nec regna vini sortiere talis,
nec tenerum Lycidan mirabere, quo
calet iuventus
nunc omnis et mox virgines tepebunt.20
BACK[24] EDITOR'S NOTE: Favonius: one of the Roman wind gods (with dominion over
flowers and plants). BACK
[25] EDITOR'S NOTE: Cynthia: alternate name for Artemis, the Greek goddess of the moon.
BACK
[26] EDITOR'S NOTE: Cytherea: alternate name Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of
love. BACK
[27] EDITOR'S NOTE: Faunus: a Roman god of the forest. BACK
[28] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Imitated from an Elegy attributed to Sulpicia Est qui te, Cerinthe, &c. Vide Tibul. Lib.iv. May. 1803" does not
appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and
Journals). It presents a verse translation of the Latin elegy "Qui mihi te, Cerinthe, dies dedit, hic mihi sanctus" (“This day that
made thee live for me, Cerinthus, shall be for me one to be hallowed always,” J. P. Postgate translation) collected in the Corpus
Tibullianum, (3.11), the works of Tibullus (books 1-2) and friends (books 3-4 in Tighe's time), which includes a set of poems about
Sulpicia and her beloved Cerinthus, "Sulpicia's Garland" (the source of Tighe's poem), as well as six elegies by Sulpicia herself:
Qui mihi te,
Cerinthe, dies dedit, hic mihi sanctus
atque inter festos semper habendus erit:
te nascente nouum Parcae cecinere
puellis
seruitium et dederunt regna superba tibi.
Vror ego ante alias: iuuat hoc, Cerinthe, quod uror,5
si tibi de nobis
mutuus ignis adest;
mutuus adsit amor, per te dulcissima furta
perque tuos oculos per Geniumque rogo.
Mane Geni, cape tura
libens uotisque faueto,
si modo, cum de me cogitat, ille calet.10
Quod si forte alios iam nunc suspiret amores,
tunc precor
infidos, sancte, relinque focos.
Nec tu sis iniusta, Venus: uel seruiat aeque
uinctus uterque tibi uel mea uincla leua;
sed
potius ualida teneamur uterque catena,15
nulla queat posthac quam soluisse dies.
Optat idem iuuenis quod nos, sed tectius
optat:
nam pudet haec illum dicere uerba palam.
At tu, Natalis, quoniam deus omnia sentis,
adnue: quid refert, clamne palamne
roget?20
[29] EDITOR'S NOTE: Lesbia was the pseudonym Catullus used to refer to his
lover. BACK
[30] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Fond Catullus! cease to grieve" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. It
presents a verse translation of Catullus's 19-line Carmina poem 8 (“Poor Catullus, ‘tis time you should cease your folly,”
Francis Cornish translation):
Miser Catulle, desinas ineptire,
et quod vides perisse perditum ducas.
fulsere quondam candidi tibi
soles,
cum ventitabas quo puella ducebat
amata nobis quantum amabitur nulla.5
ibi illa multa tum iocosa fiebant,
quae tu
volebas nec puella nolebat.
fulsere vere candidi tibi soles.
nunc iam illa non vult: tu quoque, impotens, noli,
nec quae
fugit sectare, nec miser vive,10
sed obstinata mente perfer, obdura.
vale, puella! iam Catullus obdurat,
nec te requiret nec
rogabit invitam:
at tu dolebis, cum rogaberis nulla.
scelesta, vae te! quae tibi manet vita!15
quis nunc te adibit? cui
videberis bella?
quem nunc amabis? cuius esse diceris?
quem basiabis? cui labella mordebis?
at tu, Catulle, destinatus
obdura.
[31] EDITOR'S NOTE: "If aught of conscious worth the soul can cheer" does not appear in Psyche, with Other
Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. It presents a verse translation of Catullus's 26-line Carmina poem 76 (“If a man can take any
pleasure in recalling the thought of kindnesses done,” Francis Cornish translation):
Si qua recordanti benefacta priora voluptas
est
homini, cum se cogitat esse pium,
nec sanctam violasse fidem, nec foedere in ullo
divum ad fallendos numine abusum
homines,
multa parata manent in longa aetate, Catulle,5
ex hoc ingrato gaudia amore tibi.
nam quaecumque homines bene cuiquam
aut dicere possunt
aut facere, haec a te dictaque factaque sunt:
omnia quae ingratae perierunt credita menti.
quare cur tu te
iam amplius excrucies?10
quin tu animo offirmas atque istinc teque reducis
et dis invitis desinis esse miser?
difficile est
longum subito deponere amorem;
difficile est, verum hoc qua libet efficias.
una salus haec est, hoc est tibi
pervincendum;15
hoc facias, sive id non pote sive pote.
o di, si vestrum est misereri, aut si quibus unquam
extremam iam ipsa
in morte tulistis opem,
me miserum adspicite et, si vitam puriter egi,
eripite hanc pestem perniciemque mihi!20
hei mihi
subrepens imos ut torpor in artus
expulit ex omni pectore laetitias.
non iam illud quaero, contra ut me diligat illa,
aut,
quod non potis est, esse pudica velit:
ipse valere opto et taetrum hunc deponere morbum.25
o di, reddite mi hoc pro pietate
mea.
[32] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Tenderest friend, so long deplored" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. It
presents a verse translation of Catullus's 11-line Carmina poem 9 (“Veranius, preferred by me of all my friends, the whole
three hundred thousand of them,” Francis Cornish translation):
Verani, omnibus e meis amicis
antistans mihi milibus
trecentis,
venistine domum ad tuos penates
fratresque unanimos anumque matrem?
venisti! o mihi nuntii beati!5
visam te
incolumem audiamque Hiberum
narrantem loca, facta, nationes,
ut mos est tuus, applicansque collum
iucundum os oculosque
saviabor.
o, quantum est hominum beatiorum,10
quid me laetiùs est beatiusve?
[33] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Dearest! did I hear thee say" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. It
presents a verse translation of Catullus's 6-line Carmina poem 109 (“You promise to me, my life, that this love of ours
shall be happy and last forever between us,” Francis Cornish translation):
Iucundum, mea vita, mihi proponis amorem
hunc nostrum inter nos
perpetuumque fore.
di magni, facite ut vere promittere possit
atque id sincere dicat et ex animo,
ut liceat nobis tota
perducere vita5
aeternum hoc sanctae foedus amicitiae.
[34] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Let us Lesbia, ever loving" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. It
presents a verse translation of Catullus's 13-line Carmina poem 5 (“Let us live, my Lesbia, and love,” Francis Cornish
translation):
Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus,
rumoresque senum severiorum
omnes unius aestimemus assis.
soles occidere
et redire possunt:
nobis, cum semel occidit brevis lux,5
nox est perpetua una dormienda.
da mi basia mille, deinde
centum,
dein mille altera, dein secunda centum,
deinde usque altera mille, deinde centum,
dein, cum milia multa
fecerimus,10
conturbabimus illa, ne sciamus,
aut ne quis malus invidere possit,
cum tantum sciat esse basiorum.
[35] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Rather bid thine ardent lover" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. It
presents a verse translation of Catullus's 12-line Carmina poem 7 (“You ask how many kissings of you, Lesbia, are enough
for me and more than enough,” Francis Cornish translation):
Quaeris quot mihi basiationes
tuae, Lesbia, sint satis superque.
quam
magnus numerus Libyssae harenae
laserpiciferis iacet Cyrenis,
oraclum Iovis inter aestuosi5
et Batti veteris sacrum
sepulcrum,
aut quam sidera multa, cum tacet nox,
furtivos hominum vident amores,
tam te basia multa basiare
vesano
satis et super Catullo est,10
quae nec pernumerare curiosi
possint nec mala fascinare lingua.
[36] EDITOR'S NOTE: Charles Este and Antonius Parsons co-edited the Carmina quadragesimalia ab aedis Christi alumnis
composita et ab ejusdem aedis Baccalaureis determinantibus in schola naturalis philosophiae publice recitata for Christ Church,
University of Oxford, in 1723. BACK
[37] EDITOR'S NOTE: "See the fair, vernal Eve begins to smile!" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or
Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. It
presents a verse translation of the 14-line Carmina quadragesimalia poem “Vespere sub verno” (“The spring evening”) under
the heading "An Privatio fit Principium? Affirmatur":
Vespere sub verno, tandem actis imbribus, aether
Guttatim
sparsis rorat apertus aquis.
Aureus abrupto curvamine desuper arcus
Fulget, et ancipiti lumine tingit
agros.
Continuo fensus pertentat frigoris aura5
Vivida, et insinuans mulcet amoenus odor.
Pallentes
sparsim accrescunt per pascua sungi,
Laetius et torti graminis herba viret.
Plurimus annosa decussus ab
arbore limax
In putri lentum tramite sulcat iter.10
Splendidus accendit per dumos lampada vermis.
Roscida dum tremulâ femita luce micat.
Non haec praestiterat laetus spectacula vesper,
Nubila texissent nî prius atra diem.
[38] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Cupid's Quiver" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. It presents a verse
translation of the 14-line Carmina quadragesimalia poem “Diversos animos” (“The varying minds”) under the heading "An
Effectus requirat Agentem sibi proportionatum? Affirmatur":
Diversos animos ut vincere possit amantuum,
Diversa
Idalius dirigit arma Puer.
Instruat emissas aquilae si penna sagittas,
Magnanimi herois saucia corda
dolent.
Sin alam telo pavonis cauda ministrat5
Versicolor, molli vulnere Cotta perit.
Credula multiloquo cùm virgo cedit
amanti,
Pennatam praebet garrulus ales opem.
Accelerat jaculum Philomela; pluma per auras?
Languentem captat Lesbia voce procum.10
Cum ruit in venerem juvenum lascivior aetas,
Ictum communem passeris ala regit.
Hinc passim nullo discrimine sternit amantes,
Tela gerens cordi cuilibet
apta, Puer.
[39] EDITOR'S NOTE: "The Fly" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or
Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. It presents a verse translation of
the 10-line Carmina quadragesimalia poem “Picta auro” (“Embroidered with gold”) under the heading "Ad Mors et Senectus
omni Animato conveniat? Affirmatur":
Picta auro, et nitidis variata coloribus alas,
Musca, veni nostris hospes amica
scyphis.
Hospes eris, madidae seu te moderator uvae,
Haustus seu recreet plenior, hospes eris.
Indulge
geniali horae sacilique Lyaeo,5
Dum saevum Lachesis tarda moratur opus.
Nam tua, devolvi praeceps, brevis
interit aetas,
Et nostra est parili praecipitata suga.
Non tamen est, sortem cur indignemur iniquam;
Virgilius periit, Virgiliique Culex.10
[40] EDITOR'S NOTE: "The Grasshopper" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. It presents a verse
translation of the 14-line Carmina quadragesimalia poem “Parvula progenies” (“Tiny offspring”) under the heading "An Vita
consistat in Calore? Affirmatur":
Parvula progenies Veris Zephyrique, Cicada,
Quàm te Phoebus amat! quàm savet alma
Ceres!
Maturae variâ frueris dulcedine messis,
Dum praebet tenerum cespitis herba torum.
Omne tuum est,
quodcunque sinu de divite tellus5
Sponte, vel humano culta labore, parit.
Illic lacteolo surgunt tibi lilia
collo,
Hic calices implet roscida gemma tuos.
Et quando exhaustos inter cadis ebria stores,
En! pro te somnos omne papaver habet. 10
Deliciis tandem variis satiata recedis;
Nec
tibi, quae laedit caetera, tristis hyems.
Sortem ultrà humanam felix, quae frigoris expers
Et fenii, Phoebo
defieiente, peris!
[41] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Stanzas from Petrarca" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. It seems to present
a very loose verse translation of Petrarch's Sonnet 143:
Quando io v'odo parlar sì dolcemente
com' Amor proprio a' suoi seguaci
instilla,
l'acceso mio desir tutto sfavilla,
tal ch' e'nfiammar devria l'anime spente;
trovo la bella donna allor
presente5
ovunque mi fu mai dolce o tranquilla,
ne l'abito ch'al suon non d'altra squilla
ma di sospir mi fa destar
sovente.
Le chiome a l'aura sparse et lei conversa
indietro veggio, et cosi bella riede10
nel cor come colei che tien la
chiave;
ma 'l soverchio piacer, che s'atraversa
a la mia lingua, qual dentro ella siede
di mostrarla in palese ardir non
àve.
Mark Musa translates these lines as follows:
When I hear you speak words of so much sweetness,
as Love himself inspires
in his flock,
glowing desire in me turns to sparks,
enough to set a dead soul all aflame;
and then I find the lovely lady
present,5
whenever she was so sweet or kind to me,
appearing so that often I'm awakened
not by the sound of any bell but
sighs.
Her hair free in the breeze I see, and she
turning to me: so lovely she comes back10
into my heart for which she has
the key;
but too much joy, which is an obstacle
stopping my tongue, does not possess the courage
to clearly show what she is
like inside.
BACK[42] EDITOR'S NOTE: "The Flowers from Madme Deshouliers. Dec.r 1795" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals). It
presents a verse translation of Antoinette Deshoulières's 49-line poem "Les Fleurs, Idylle," first published in Nouveau
Mercure galant in November 1677 (“Your brilliance doesn’t last, charming flowers, honor of our gardens”):
Que votre éclat est peu
durable,
Charmantes fleurs, honneur de nos jardins!
Souvent un jour commence et finit vos destins,
Et le sort le plus
favorable
Ne vous laisse briller que deux ou trois matins.5
Ah ! Consolez-vous-en, jonquilles, tubéreuses:
Vous vivez peu de
jours, mais vous vivez heureuses!
Les médisants ni les jaloux
Ne gênent point l'innocente tendresse
Que le printemps fait
naître entre Zéphire et vous.10
Jamais trop de délicatesse
Ne mêle d'amertume à vos plus doux plaisirs.
Que pour d'autres que
vous il pousse des soupirs,
Que loin de vous il folâtre sans cesse;
Vous ne ressentez point la mortelle tristesse15
Qui dévore
les tendres coeurs,
Lorsque, pleins d'une ardeur extrême,
On voit l'ingrat objet qu'on aime
Manquer d'empressement, ou
s'engager ailleurs.
Pour plaire, vous n'avez seulement qu'à paraître.20
Plus heureuses que nous, ce n'est que le trépas
Qui
vous fait perdre vos appas;
Plus heureuses que nous, vous mourez pour renaître.
Tristes réflexions, inutiles souhaits!
Quand
une fois nous cessons d'être,25
Aimables fleurs, c'est pour jamais!
Un redoutable instant nous détruit sans réserve:
On ne voit
au delà qu'un obscur avenir.
A peine de nos noms un léger souvenir
Parmi les hommes se conserve.30
Nous rentrons pour toujours
dans le profond repos
D'où nous a tirés la nature,
Dans cette affreuse nuit qui confond les héros
Avec le lâche et le
parjure,
Et dont les fiers destins, par de cruelles lois,35
Ne laissent sortir qu'une fois.
Mais, hélas ! Pour vouloir
revivre,
La vie est-elle un bien si doux ?
Quand nous l'aimons tant, songeons-nous
De combien de chagrins sa perte nous
délivre?40
Elle n'est qu'un amas de craintes, de douleurs,
De travaux, de soucis, de peines;
Pour qui connoît les miseres
humaines,
Mourir n'est pas le plus grand des malheurs.
Cependant, agréables fleurs,45
Par des liens honteux attachés à la
vie,
Elle fait seule tous nos soins;
Et nous ne vous portons envie
Que par où nous devons vous envier le moins.
[43] EDITOR'S NOTE: Zephyr: the Greek god of the west wind. BACK
[44] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Love Imitated from Florian" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is not dated in Verses. It
presents a verse translation of the first two paragraphs of the second chapter of Jean-Pierre Claris de Florian's 1788 Estelle (“The heartaches of love are cruel, but the calm of an insensitive heart is greater”):
Ils sont cruels
les chagrins d'amour; mais le calme d'un coeur insensible l'est davantage. Les plaisirs mêmes que donnent la grandeur, les richesses, la
vanité, ne valent pas les peines des amants. L'homme au faite des honneurs, entouré de trésors, environné d'esclaves, tourne ses regards avec
complaisance sur ses prèmieres années: il était pauvre alors, mais il aimait; ce seul souvenir est plus doux pour lui que toutes les
jouissances de la fortune. Amour, toi seul remplis notre âme, toi seul es la source de tous les biens, tant que la vertu s'accorde avec toi.
Ah! qu'elle soit toujours ton guide, et que tu sois son consolateur! Ne vous quittez jamais, enfants du ciel; marchez ensemble en vous tenant
la main. Si vous rencontrez dans votre route les chagrins ou les malheurs, soutenez-vous mutuellement.
Ils
passeront, ces malheurs, et la félicité dont vous jouirez en aura cent fois plus de charmes; le souvenir des peines passées rendra plus
louchants vos plaisirs. C'est ainsi qu'après un orage on trouve plus vert le gazon, plus riante la campagne couverte de perles liquides, plus
belles les fleurs des champs relevant leurs têtes penchées; et l'on écoute avec plus de délices l'alouette ou le rossignol, qui chantent en
secouant leurs ailes.
BACK[45] EDITOR'S NOTE: "First Love From 'Il primo Amore' Metastasio Canz: 15" does not appear in Psyche, with Other
Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is not dated in Verses. It presents a verse translation of Pietro Metastasio's 38-line Cantata 15, "Il Primo Amore" (sometimes identified as Cantata
16), whose first three lines declare “Ah it is too true! That amorous ardour / For another that warms the warms the breast the first time / Never
ages, is never fully extinguished”:
Ah troppo è ver! Quell' amoroso ardore,
Che altrui scaldo
la prima volta il seno,
Mai per età, mai non s' estingue appieno.
È un fuoco
insidioso
Sotto il cenere ascoso. A suo talento5
Sembra talor che possa
Trattarlo ognun senza restarne offeso:
Ma se-un' aura lo scuote, eccolo acceso.
Sol che un istante io miri
La bella mia nemica,10
La dolce fiamma
antica
Sento svegliarmi in sen.
Ritorno a' miei sospiri,
D'amor per lei mi moro;
Il mio destino adoro15
Negli occhi del mio ben.
Nè sol quando la miro,
Ardo per Nice: ove mi volga, io trovo
Esca
all' incendio mio. Là mi ricordo
Quando m'innamorò; qui mi sovviene20
Come giurommi fede.
Un luogo, oh Dio!
I suoi ricori, un mi riduce in mente
Le tenerezze sue: questo al pensiero
Tornar l' idea vivace
D' una guerra mi fa, quel d' una pace.25
Che
più? Le Ninfe istesse,
Che a vagheggiar per ingannarmi io torno,
Fan ch' io pensi al
mio ben. Di Silvia o Clori
Talor le grazie ammiro; il crin, la fronte
Lodo talor: ma
quante volte il labbro30
Dice, questa è gentil, vezzosa è quella,
Nice, risponde il cor,
Nice è più bella.
Bella fiamma del mio core,
Sol per te conobbi amore,
E te sola io voglio amar.35
Non mi lagno del mio fato;
Dolce sorte è l' esser nato
Sol per Nice a sospirar.
[46] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Imitated from Aulus Gellius" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. It
presents a verse translation of two verses cited by Aulus Gellius in 19:11 of his 20-volume commonplace book commonplace book Noctes Atticae or Attic Nights. The first is by Plato: "τὴν ψυχὴν Ἀγάθωνα φιλῶν ἐπὶ χείλεσιν εἶχον· / ἦλθε
γὰρ ἡ τλήμων ὡς διαβησομένη" ("My soul, when I kissed Agathon, did pass My lips; as though, poor soul, would leap across," John C. Rolfe
translation). The second is a paraphrase of Plato by an unidentified contemporary of Gellius's: "Dum semihiulco savio / meum puellum savior /
dulcemque florem spiritus / duco ex aperto tramite, / anima aegra et saucia / cucurrit ad labeas mihi, / rictumque in oris pervium / et labra pueri
mollia, / rimata itineri transitus, / ut transiliret, nititur. / Tum si morae quid plusculae / fuisset in coetu osculi, / Amoris igni percita /
transisset et me linqueret, / et mira prorsum res foret, / ut fierem ad me mortuus, / ad puerulum intus viverem" ("When with my parted lips my love
I kiss, / And quaff the breath's sweet balm from open mouth, / Smitten with love my soul mounts to my lips, / And through my love's soft mouth its
way would take, / Passing the open gateway of the lips. / But if our kiss, delayed, had been prolonged, / By love's fire swayed my soul that way
had ta'en, / And left me. Faith, a wondrous thing it were, / If I should die, but live within my love" (392-93). BACK
[47] EDITOR'S NOTE: "The Violet. from the French" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. It
presents a verse translation of Jean Desmarets de Saint-Sorlin's quatrain "La Violette" which became part of the manuscript collection of madrigals
"La Guirlande de Julie" (1641): "Modeste en ma couleur, modeste en mon séjour, / Franche d'ambition, je me cache sous l'herbe; / Mais, si sur votre
front je puis me voir un jour, / La plus humble des fleurs sera la plus superbe" (“Modest in my color, modest in my dwelling”). BACK
[48] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Song" ("How hard with anguish unreveal'd") is printed in Mary under the title "To ----";
although it is not dated, the chronological sequencing of the volume suggests it was written in 1802-1803. BACK
[49] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Song Adapted to an Air by Mozart 1806" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or
Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals). It is the first of the poems in Verses to be dated past the 1805 inscription date of the title page. It presents a verse translation of Christian Adolf Overbeck's
5-stanza 1781 song "Komm, lieber Mai, und mache die Bäume wieder grün" (“Come dear May, and make the trees green again), which Mozart set to music
in 1791 (K. 596). Following Mozart, Tighe's lyric attends to stanzas 1, 2 and 5 from Overbeck:
Komm lieber Mai und mache
Die Bäume wieder
grün
Und laßt uns an dem Bache
Die kleinen Veilchen blüh'n
Wie möchten wir so gerne5
Ein Blühmchen wieder
seh'n
Ach lieber Mai wie gerne,
Einmal spazieren geh'n
Zwar Wintertage haben
Wohl auch der Freuden viel10
Man kann
im Schnee frisch traben
Und treibt manch Abendspiel
Baut Häuselchen von Karten,
Spielt Blind Kuh und fand
Auch dies
wohl Schlittenfahrten15
Auf's liebe freie Land
Doch wenn die Vöglein singen
Und wir dann froh und flinn
Auf grünem Rasen
springen
Das ist ein ander' Ding20
D'rum komm und bring vor Allem
Uns viele Veilchen mit
Bring auch viel
Nachtigallen
Und viele Kuckucks Lied
Am meisten aber dauert25
Mich Lottchens Herzeleid,
Das arme Mädchen
lauert
Recht auf die Blumenzeit.
Umsonst hol ich ihr Spielchen
Zum Zeitvertreib herbei,30
Sie sitzt in ihrem
Stuhlchen,
Wie's Hühnchen auf dem Ei.
Ach, wenn's doch erst gelinder
Und grüner draußen wär!
Komm, lieber Mai, wir
Kinder,35
Wir bitten gar zu sehr!
O komm und bring vor allem
Uns viele Veilchen mit,
Bring auch viel
Nachtigallen
Und schöne Kuckucks mit.40
BACK[50] EDITOR'S NOTE: "To Caroline Imitated from Horace Albi, nostrorum sermenum, candide judex, &c" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is
not dated in Verses. It presents a verse translation of Horace's Epistle 1.4 "Albi, nostrorum sermonum candide iudex"
(“Albius, impartial critic of my conversations,” H. Rushton Fairclough translation), which addresses Tibullus as the sincerest judge of his satires
and urges him to seize the day:
Albi, nostrorum sermonum candide iudex,
quid nunc te dicam facere in regione Pedana?
Scribere quod
Cassi Parmensis opuscula uincat,
an tacitum siluas inter reptare salubris,
curantem quicquid dignum sapiente bonoque est?5
Non
tu corpus eras sine pectore; di tibi formam,
di tibi diuitias dederunt artemque fruendi.
Quid uoueat dulci nutricula maius
alumno,
qui sapere et fari possit quae sentiat, et cui
gratia, fama, ualetudo contingat abunde,10
et mundus uictus non
deficiente crumina?
Inter spem curamque, timores inter et iras
omnem crede diem tibi diluxisse supremum;
grata superueniet
quae non sperabitur hora.
Me pinguem et nitidum bene curata cute uises,15
cum ridere uoles, Epicuri de grege porcum.
[51] EDITOR'S NOTE: William Henry Bunbury (1750-1811) was well known for his caricatures. Caroline
Hamilton was a gifted painter and occasional poet who often produced satirical work. BACK
[52] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Written for Emily" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary and is not dated in Verses but is printed without a title in Selena (the source
text for Collected Poems and Journals), where it is attributed to the character Lady Emily Trevallyn. BACK
[53] EDITOR'S NOTE: "from an ancient inscription, Neapoli D. M. Gliconi. Vernae Dulciss" does not appear in Psyche,
with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. It presents a verse translation of the following Latin inscription Thomas Warton published in his 1758 collection
Inscriptionum Romanarum Metricarum Delectus: "Verna puer, puer O mi verna, quis ah, quis ab aura / Te in tenebras
rapuit perditus? Ah morerer / Nì tecum assidue loquerer, nì saepe jocando / Fallerer, hinc dum te continue aspicio. / Semper ero tecum, et si me
sopor occupet, umbram / Te umbra petam, ergo unquam ne metue abs te abeam." BACK
[54] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Sonnet from Fidentio" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is not dated in Verses. It presents a
verse translation of "Sonetto XI" from Camillo Scrofa's I Cantici di Fidentio Glottogrysio Ludimagistro (1743): "O giorno
col lapillo albo signando, / Giorno al mio gaudio et al mio ben fatale, / Aureo, felice, et più del mio natale / Da me perpetuamente celebrando; /
Quando io credra migrar del secul, quando / Credea proximo aver l' ora letale, / Tu propitio da me scacci ogni male, / Et mi vai tutto dentro
exhilarando: / Tu, santo dì, tu, luce amata et cara, / Dopo absentia si ria, pene si dure, / Rendi a questi occhi il suo Camillo adorno, / Drizzate
tosto, Messer Blosio, un' ara, / Date mi plectro, portate igne et thure, / Ch'io vo' far sacrificio a si bel giorno." BACK
[55] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Dirge Written at Brompton January 12 1805" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or
Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals). BACK
[56] EDITOR'S NOTE: The MS contains a penciled note that appears to be in
Caroline Hamilton's hand: "on her little Italian greyhound." BACK
[57] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Address to the West Wind Written at Park Gate Sept:r 1805" does not appear in
Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary; Henry and Lucy Moore include a copy of it from Verses in their 1811 Album (the source text for Collected Poems and Journals). The Tighes left
England for Ireland in September 1805. BACK
[58] EDITOR'S NOTE: Eurus: Greek god of the east wind. BACK
[59] EDITOR'S NOTE: Zephyr: Greek god of the west wind. BACK
[60] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Adorea" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or
Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. BACK
[61] EDITOR'S NOTE: Tibullus, Elegy 3.8 ("Sulpicia est tibi culta tuis, / Mars magne, kalendis"),
lines 7-8: "Whatsoever [Love] does, whithersoever she turns her steps, / Grace follows her unseen to order all aright" (J. P. Postgate
translation). BACK
[62] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Pleasure" is printed in Psyche, with Other Poems without a date, without lines 19-20,
51-52, 61-62, and 67-68, and without Tighe's note to line 30 on the Senegal river. A 28-line extract from the poem appears in Mary, dated 1802. BACK
[63] EDITOR'S NOTE: Tighe's note: "Of poisonous Senegal's ill omened tide] The river Senegal
annually overflows its banks, not as the Nile to administer health and plenty, but rendering the beautiful country which it thus visits so
unwholesome as not only to be in itself unhabitable, but that it exhales such poisonous vapours as to be extremely noxious to the unguarded
sailors who, allured by the luxurious appearance of the shore, venture up the mouth of the destructive river." BACK
[64] EDITOR'S NOTE: The first 12 stanzas of "To Tranquility" are printed in Mary where it is dated 1802 (the
source text for Collected Poems and Journals). BACK
[65] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Song 1806" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary
(or Collected Poems and Journals). BACK
[66] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Bryan Byrne founded on truth" is printed in Psyche, with Other Poems (the source text for
Collected Poems and Journals) under the title "Bryan Byrne, of Glenmalure" without the subtitle and missing the
following four stanzas: lines 25-28, 37-40, 225-28, and 245-48. A note in Psyche, with Other Poems states that “The story
of Bryan Byrne is founded upon facts which were related to the author in the autumn of 1798: though circumstances may not have happened in the
exact manner which is recorded in the poem, yet it gives but too faithful a picture of the sentiments and conduct of those days. It is certain that
at that period several unarmed persons, report says above twenty, were put to death by the troops near Wicklow, to retaliate the murder of many
loyalists, and particularly of the three brothers mentioned in this ballad” (314). BACK
[67] EDITOR'S NOTE: MS reads "cherubs" BACK
[68] EDITOR'S NOTE: A note in Psyche, with Other
Poems identifies Clough as "the place at which Colonel Walpole was killed, and his detachment defeated by the rebels"
(314). BACK
[69] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Written for Angela" does not appear in Selena (or Psyche, with Other
Poems or Mary or Collected Poems and Journals) but is clearly attributed to the
character Angela Harley. BACK
[70] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Song to my Harp 1798" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals). BACK
[71] EDITOR'S NOTE: Tighe's coterie name. BACK
[72] EDITOR'S NOTE: The MS has a very faint underline under "night" (an odd word choice). BACK
[73] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Song" ("Still as on Liffey's banks I stray") does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems
or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals); it is undated in Verses. BACK
[74] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Written in an Horace given on my birth-day by H. Vaughan. 1804" does not appear in Psyche, with
Other Poems or Mary; the London Royal College of Physicians Library autograph copy (the source text for Collected Poems and Journals) dates the poem to London October 9, 1804 and contains an epigraph from Catullus's Carmina 12.12-13: "Quod me non movet oestimatione / Verum ut Muypoouvov" ("Which does not concern me for what it is worth,
but because it is keepsake," Francis Cornish translation). Tighe saw Henry Vaughan (later Sir Henry Halford) while she was pursuing treatment in
England. BACK
[75] EDITOR'S NOTE: "To W. Hayley. In return for a copy of Cowper's life sent with a sonnet. 1806" is printed in Mary. Hayley sent Tighe a copy of his Life and Posthumous Writings of William Cowper (1803) with the
following sonnet, "To Mrs. H. Tighe with a copy of Cowper's Life":
Records of Genius! traced by friendship's hand!
Go, & to Psyche's
sympathetic eyes
Fondly display, in nature's simple guise
A poet's life! whose merit may command
Perpetual plaudits from
his native land, 5
And fame, from every polished chime, that lies
Beneath the favour of indulgent skies,
Wherever minds
aspire & hearts expand!
To Psyche say, in truth's endearing tone
Behold thy favorite Bard! whose life & lays 10
(If
ever man might arrogate such praise)
May match in purity and grace thy own!
How, as thy friend, would he have joyed to raise,
And seat thee high on his Parnassian throne!
[76] EDITOR'S NOTE: Mount Parnassus was the mountain in Greece considered sacred to
Apollo, god of music and poetry. BACK
[77] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Song 1801" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary
(or Collected Poems and Journals). BACK
[78] EDITOR'S NOTE: "The Myrtle Written at West Aston. 1808"is printed as "Written at West-Aston. June 1808" in Psyche,
with Other Poems and under its full title in Mary. A note in Psyche, with Other Poems
states "The myrtle was planted by the author's aunt Mary, at West-Aston, the seat of Thomas Acton, esq. in the county of Wicklow. The 'beloved
brother' was the author's father, the Reverend William Blachford, who died after a very short illness in the meridian of life, a few months after
the birth of his daughter. The myrtle was destroyed by frost in the winter of 1807, notwithstanding the care of Mrs. Acton, who is addressed in
this poem by her Christian name of Sydney" (313-14). BACK
[79] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Morven and Miruna from Ossian" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. It
provides a verse narration of the story of Colma and Salgar (here Miruna and Morven) sung by Minona in "The Songs of Selma" section of James
Macpherson's Poems of Ossian (1760-1775):
Minona came forth in her beauty: with downcast look and
tearful eye. Her hair flew slowly on the blast, that rushed unfrequent from the hill. The souls of the heroes were sad when she raised the
tuneful voice; for often had they seen the grave of Salgar, and the dark dwelling of white-bosomed Colma. Of Colma left alone on the hill, with
all her voice of music! Salgar promised to come: but the night descended round. Hear the voice of Colma, when she sat alone on the hill.
Colma. It is night, I am alone, forlorn on the hill of storms. The wind is heard on the mountain. The torrent shrieks
down the rock. No hut receives me from the rain; forlorn on the hill of winds.
Rise, moon! from behind thy clouds;
stars of the night appear! Lead me, some light, to the place where my love rests from the toil of the chase! his bow near him, unstrung; his
dogs panting around him. But here I must sit alone, by the rock of the mossy stream. The stream and the wind roar; nor can I hear the voice of
my love. Why delays my Salgar, why the son of the hill, his promise? Here is the rock, and the tree; and here the
roaring stream. Thou didst promise with night to be here. Ah! whither is my Salgar gone? With thee I would fly, my father; with thee, my
brother of pride. Our race have long been foes; but we are not foes, O Salgar!
Cease a
little while, O wind! stream, be thou silent a while! let my voice be heard over the heath; let my wanderer hear me. Salgar! it is I who call.
Here is the tree, and the rock. Salgar, my love! I am here. Why delayest thou thy coming? Lo! the moon appeareth. The flood is bright in the
vale. The rocks are gray on the face of the hill. But I see him not on the brow; his dogs before him tell not that he is coming. Here I must
sit alone.
But who are these that lie beyond me on the heath? Are they my love and my brother? Speak to me, O my
friends! they answer not. My soul is tormented with fears. Ah! they are dead. Their swords are red from the fight. O my brother! my brother!
why hast thou slain my Salgar? why, O Salgar! hast thou slain my brother? Dear were ye both to me! what shall I say in your praise? Thou wert
fair on the hill among thousands; he was terrible in fight. Speak to me; hear my voice, sons of my love! But alas! they are silent; silent
forever! Cold are their breasts of clay! Oh! from the rock of the hill: from the top of the windy mountain, speak ye ghosts of the dead! speak,
I will not be afraid. Whither are ye gone to rest? In what cave of the hill shall I find you? No feeble voice is on the wind; no answer
half-drowned in the storms of the hill.
I sit in my grief; I wait for morning in my tears! Rear the tomb, ye
friends of the dead. Close it not till Colma come. My life flies away like a dream: why should I stay behind? Here shall I rest with my
friends, by the stream of the sounding rock. When night comes on the hill; when the wind is on the heath; my ghost shall stand in the wind, and
mourn the death of my friends. The hunter shall hear from his booth. He shall fear but love my voice. For sweet shall my voice be for my
friends: for pleasant were they both to me.
Such was thy song, Minona, softly-blushing maid of Torman. Our tears
descended for Colma, and our souls were sad.
BACK[80] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Winter Imitated from the Daphnis of Gessner" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems
or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. It
presents a verse translation of Salomon Gessner's idyl "Daphnis" in Idyllen (1756). In the excerpt Daphnis is sitting by
the fire one winter morning, dreaming of his beloved Phillis, and recalling the time she gave a young shepherd two of her goats after two of his
fell from a precipice:
An einem hellen Wintermorgen sass Daphnis in seiner Hütte; die lodernden Flammen angebrannter dürrer Reiser streuten
angenehme Wärme in der Hütte umher, indess dass der herbe Winter sein Strohdach mit tiefem Schnee bedeckt hielt; er sah' vergnügt durch das
enge Fenster über die wintrichte Gegend hin. Du herber Winter! so sprach er; doch bist du schön! Lieblich lächelt izt die Sonue durch die
dünnbenebelte Luft über die schneebedeckten Hügel hin; flimmernder Schneestaub flattert umher, wie in Sommertagen über dem Teich kleine Mücken
im Sonnenschein tanzen. Lieblich ist's, wie aus dem Weissen empor die schwarzen Stämme der Bäume zerstreut stehn, mit ihren krummgeschwungenen
unbelaubten Aesten; oder eine braune Hütte mit dem beschneiten Dach; oder wenn die schwarzen Zäune von Dornstauden die weisse Ebene
durchkreuzen. Schön ist's, wie die grüne Saat dort über das Feld bin die zarten Spitzen aus dem Schnee emporhebt, und das Weiss mit sanftem
Grün vermischet. Schön glänzen die nahen Sträuche; mit Duft geschmückt sind ihre dünnen Aeste, und die dünnen umher flatternden Fäden. Zwar ist
die Gegend öde, die Heerden ruhen eingeschlossen im wärmeuden. Stroh; nur selten sieht man den Fusstritt des willigen Stiers, der traurig das
Brennholz vor die Hütte führt, das sein Hirt im nahen Hain gefällt hat. Die Vögel haben die Gebüsche verlassen, nur die einsame Meise singet
ihr Lied; nur der kleine Zaunschlüpfer hüpfet umher, und der braune Sperling kömmt freundlich zu der Hütte, und picket die hingestreuten
Körner. Dort, wo der Rauch aus den Bäumen in die Luft emporwallt, dort wohnet meine Phillis! Vielleicht sitzest du izt beym wärmenden Feuer,
das schön Gesiecht auf der unterstützenden Hand, und denkest an mich, und wünschest den Frühling. Ach Phillis! wie schön bist du! Aber, nicht
bloss deine Schönheit hat mich zur Liebe gereizt. O wie liebt ich dich, seit jenem Tag, da dem jungen Alexis zwey Ziegen von der Felsenwand
stürzten! Er weinte, der junge Hirt. Ich bin arm, sprach er, und habe zwey Ziegen verloren; die eine war trachtig. Ach! ich darf nicht zu
meinem armen Vater in die Hütte zurückkehren. So sprach er weinend; du sahest ihn weinen, Phillis! und wischtest die mitleidigen Thränen vom
Auge, und nahmest aus deiner kleinen Heerde zwey der bessten Ziegen. Da, Alexis! sprachst du, nimm diese Ziegen; die eine ist trächtig. Und wie
er vor Freude weinte, da weintest du auch vor Freude, weil du ihm geholfen hattest. O! sey immer unfreundlich, Winter! meine Flöte soll doch
nicht bestaubt in der Hütte hangen; ich will dennoch von meiner Phillis ein frohes Lied singen. Zwar hast du alles entlaubt, zwar hast du die
Blumen von den Wiesen genommen; aber du sollst es nicht hindern, dass ich einen Kranz flechte; Epheu und das schlanke Immergrün mit den blauen
Blumen will ich durch einander flechten. Und diese Meise, die ich gestern fieng, soll in ihrer Hütte singen. Ja ich will dich ihr heute bringen
und den Kranz; sing' ihr dann dein frohes Lied; sie wird freundlich lächelnd dich anreden, und in ihrer kleinen Hand die Speise dir reichen. O
wie wird sie dich pflegen, weil du von mir kömmst. (24-27)
BACK[81] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Sonnet from the Italian. imitated 1799" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or
Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals). BACK
[82] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Sonnet to W. Parnell written at Avondale 1808" is printed in Psyche, with Other Poems
under the title "To W. P. Esq. Avondale," and was written in June 1808 during Tighe's last visit to the seat of family friend William Parnell. BACK
[83] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Sonnet In reply to M.rs Wilmot. 1807" does not appear in Psyche, with
Other Poems or Mary but was published by Barbarina Brand, Lady Dacre under the title "Psyche's Answer" (dated
May 7, 1807) in her 1821 two-volume Dramas, Translations and Occasional Poems (the source text of Collected Poems and Journals). It offers a belated response to Dacre's complimentary sonnet "To Psyche, on Reading Her Poem":
Who hears the lark's wild rapturous carol shrill,
Nor feels with kindred joy his bosom glow?
Who, the lone owl's loud dismal shriek of woe,
Nor starts as with a sense of coming
ill?
The mingled bleatings that at evening fill 5
The dewy air with tender sounds, that
flow
From mother's love, all answering hearts avow,
Such sympathy does nature's voice
instill!
What wonder, then, if the enchanting lay
In which the soul of love and
virtue blend 10
Their force resistless, and thy heart pourtray,
While all the Nine their
fascination lend,
That the rapt fancy the strong spell obey,
Greeting thee, unknown Psyche! as a friend?"
(2:237)
Lady Dacre (née Ogle) was first married to Valentine Henry Wilmot and then Thomas Brand.
BACK
